Another 3? Please

I'm a bit stunned and feel ill-equipped to describe how reading this made feel, so just going to say that your beautiful story is what I will remember Rizzoli and Isles by, now that it's done.

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You just killed me ...
Damn ... This ... it is ... amazing ...

Totally weird, totally different and I love it. Seriously, really well done.

My first and second thoughts upon finishing this chapter: I don't even know what to say and this is amazing.
Normally, I would think the constant repetition of the bees, the honey,etc. Would get annoying or not be done well. And, I think normally, I'd be right. In this case, I am glad to be wrong. The italicized words and ideas really work in this piece. I can see your story in my head, and because I know what its like to be hospitalized and confused and drugged to the gills, I can empathize with both women.
This is awesome.

Very, very interesting. I've hot an idea of what's going on but I'm curious as to who the scumbag is. And what is Jane gonna do?

This just continues to make me cry. The lushness of the language, the imagery of the bees, the droning, the honey, the heaviness of it all, the heaviness of the emotion, the desire to drown in it and knowing not to... Oh my god. The intensity.

This is still so out there, and scary, and Maura losing some memory? And the weird flashbacks, and I don't know if I can even pretend to get what motivated you to write this particular fic, but I hope it was not an equally tragic event, and I hope Maura isn't developing a split personality because of the drugs and the terror.

Oh my god. This is making my stomach turn, and bringing up thoughts of Boxing Helena, and there are too many triggers here, and help me through this, I am crying. This frightens me and makes me scared for Maura.

This is by no means a weird story. It is a wonderful artistic tale that delicately weaves colorful poetic threads throughout the rough fibers of woolen prose, much like your rich, amber honey meanders its way through the plain wax structures of honeycomb. I marvelled at your apiarian metaphor which superbly illuminates the seductiveness of an opiate induced oblivion, the quiet yearning to succumb under the prolonged weight of trauma, and the life giving sustainability of abiding love. These wonderful juxtapositions enable us to clearly see the thin, ragged edge were human resilience and strength endures amidst evil. So very well done.

Wow. It wasn't until the last word that I realized I'd been holding my breath. What an intense and well-written story. I'd heap more praise on you, but I'm anxious to get to the sequel. Thanks for posting! - QOB

Beautifully written. It drew me into Maura's head in a very unexpected and inextricable way. You have a gift for this type of writing. Off to read "Saltbitter" now...
(fyi: this is my 1st review ever. It's that impressive.)

Incredible. You are such a talented writer. Just one more chapter for this story? Please? I know I shouldn't be greedy, but you write them soooo well!

I love Maura's abstract thoughts. They mean everything and nothing. Haha. Her thought's reminded me of these lyrics. Well done!

Somewhere through a thousand blues a dragonfly descends
with just a whisper, "I'm lonelier than God"
And all my wishes spin the fishes in the air
and every one, a different shade of you
And to the left where up is down now stands a zebra
made of shapes of me, and silver and the sun
So bring no guilt with you up above the flatline, let's just hit the sky
exploding into one

This was...different. And you've kinda got me sitting here scratching my head, because I don't quite know what to say about it. It's all good things, but you've kinda got me going "uh..." because this is just something that...well, it's indescribable, really. Feel kinda drugged myself after reading it. There's something amazing about the way that you captured the drugged up blissed out nodding off not really there feeling of an opiate high in a way that I have never seen described before anywhere else, and I love it, and honestly I could go on forever at what beautiful imagery it is of this idea of honey and the thickness and the opaqueness of it obscuring things, and I love the way you hint and imply what happens without ever stating it, because stating it would make it real, and this is about the fantasy away from the reality, and I...like it.